


Yours

by Guardian



Category: Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Dora loves her family, Dubious Morality, Eddie and Venom are disasters, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Gen, I fixed the movie you're all welcome, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 13:20:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17264915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guardian/pseuds/Guardian
Summary: In a way, it feels like she really had died. Like she's been revived from the brink of death itself, no longer quite the same.You are an unpredictable creature, Dora Skirth."I guess I am. Does that make me a bad host?"A terrible host, I think.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Strozzzi (butmicoooool)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/butmicoooool/gifts).



> Written for a prompt from Strozzzi:  
> A fic where Skirth lives - she escapes the Life Foundation, and also how her relationship with her symbiote develops.

As soon as Drake opens the blue symbiote's containment cell, Dora knows that she will die.

There's something unsettling about the symbiotes that triggers deep, primal fear. On sight, the human mind recognizes it as not only something dangerous, but something that is completely unnatural to Earth. When the creature spills towards her, it feels the same way she imagines facing any apex predator would feel. Like a lion ambushing prey. Like staring into the open maw of a great white shark.

She barely has time to scream out and then the symbiote latches onto her, sinking through her lab coat, her clothes, and through her skin, directly into her bloodstream. Her heart is pounding, and every beat that it takes only helps propel this invasive entity throughout her entire body, consuming her from the inside out.

**_Don't fight it,_ ** a voice in her head hisses. But Dora screams until she can't anymore. Until her body seizes up and collapses on the floor of her new cell. Her prison. The last place she'll ever see before she dies. Then her muscles convulse as the symbiote forcibly takes over. Her voice and breath both catch in her throat, and stop. Nothing is hers anymore. Nothing.

**_Ours,_ ** the same voice corrects. It takes Dora a long time to comprehend what it said, through the pounding of her own blood in her head. It's almost like her own voice, but twisted and demonic. Is it a hallucination? The symbiote itself? None of the hosts had communicated with the staff once they'd been exposed to these entities. This symbiote was the same one that had sunk into Isaac's body and then almost immediately come back out of him, killing him as it exited the host. She had wondered how much that hurt and how terrified he was when he'd died. Now she'll know first hand.

**_He was not a good match. Rejected us. So I rejected him. Would not do the same to you._ **

It's hard to believe that when she can feel the symbiote settled heavy in her body, pinning her limbs to the floor. Her breathing is shallow and not at all under her control. It terrifies her.

**_Your fear is intoxicating,_** the symbiote purrs. **_But you should not be afraid, Dora. Not of me. Not of_** **us.** ** _Imagine what we can be together._**

_ You're killing me, _ Dora thinks, because she can't move, can't speak, and in her terror it feels as if she can hardly even breathe.

**_No. Carlton Drake wanted you dead. Drake is the one you should fear. Not me. I want only what you want, Dora. Freedom. Cooperate, and we can both escape from here._ **

That reasoning calms Dora somewhat, even if her baser instincts are still overwhelmed with the adrenaline coursing through her veins. Drake tried to kill her. There's nothing stopping the symbiote from killing her anyway, but at this point she has nothing left to lose.

**_Wrong,_** the symbiote says. **_You still have your life to lose, and I my freedom. You could be a good match, Dora. A strong and capable host for me. That's not nothing. I would not throw you away so carelessly._**

It feels like there's a catch somewhere. A deal with the devil. She isn't sure what this entity could possibly ask of her that it can't already just take. 

**_Your trust._ **

Well, that's definitely something it can't take. But Dora's not entirely sure she can give it, either.

_ I don't think I have any other choice, _ Dora thinks desperately.

**_Of course you have a choice,_** the symbiote answers placidly. **_Death is always an option._**

A fresh spike of fear pierces through her.  _ I can't do that _ , she thinks, and then her thoughts turn to her children and the real possibility that she might never see them again or hold them in her arms. No more bedtime stories, no more gap-toothed smiles, no more hugs or scraped knees or  _ please mom can I stay up for ten more minutes? _ She'll go missing and they'll most likely never know what happened to her. They'll just be two more kids growing up without a mom. It isn't fair.

_ I'll cooperate, _ Dora thinks, warm tears sliding from her eyes. The symbiote lets her close them. _ I want to live. What do I need to do? _

**_It's easy. You just need to let me kill you._ **

  
  


-

  
  


Her heart rate slows to almost nothing. 

Her breathing stops completely.

The symbiote generates as much excess mass as it can, pulling what her body can spare out of her. Dora doesn't think she has much she can stand to lose, but this is part of their plan. Old blood cells, dead skin cells, a little bit of fatty tissue, all of this can go.

**_Did you know you had malignant cells forming in your left breast?_ ** the symbiote asks. 

**_Had,_ ** they repeat for emphasis. **_I assumed you wouldn't mind if I removed them._ ** Dora doesn't have words.

**_Need some healthy cells too. My apologies,_ ** the symbiote says, and then it spares as much of itself as it can as well, forming a blue mass that the symbiote oozes out of her chest and then pushes about a foot away from her body, leaving a trail of slime in its wake. It's a fairly convincing decoy.

Dead human body. Dead symbiote.

Now they only have to wait.

Every inch of her instinctively wants to scream out for breath, for freedom, for movement, but the symbiote keeps her paralyzed and motionless, blocking out even the parts of her brain that involuntarily keep her alive.

_ I need oxygen in my blood,  _ Dora pleads.  _ Any part of my body that isn't receiving fresh blood flow will start dying… _

**_Your blood is flowing, Doctor Skirth,_ ** the symbiote reassures her.  **_I've only temporarily relieved your heart of that responsibility. Trust._ **

As a woman of science, the level of control that the symbiote is capable of exerting over the human body is objectively fascinating, in a way. But it's  _ her _ body, and she's watched host after host suffer horribly and die after bonding to these symbiotes. Dora tries to ignore the overwhelming fear, the feeling of impending doom, the niggling doubt in the back of her head that this symbiote is the proverbial scorpion and she is the frog swimming across the pond with it on her back, hoping against hope that the sting won't come and kill them both. But that's what scorpions  _ do. _

Instead, she tries to think about the physiology of this entity. A being capable of controlling its form down to the cellular level. Possibly even down to the molecular level. It has to be providing oxygen for her right now, in order for them both to stay alive. She doesn't want to think about the less beneficial things the symbiote is doing to her body. Her organs are probably being eaten away by the minute.

**_Do you think so little of me?_ ** the symbiote questions, making Dora's pulse jump. Well, not so literally, because that's physically impossible at the moment. She doesn't know how to answer a creature that can read her very mind at will, but she doesn't have to, because her body is finally discovered by the staff that were supposed to be closely monitoring her.

They hesitate to unlock the cell and then check the fake symbiote first, to make sure it's truly dead. She can't blame them for that. It's their lives on the line, too.

The symbiote stays quiet, not commenting on that thought. The mass of dead cells and slime passes as a dead symbiote. Then they check her body, feeling for a pulse or breath, her pupils for a reaction, but the symbiote is horrifically effective at keeping her body as close to lifeless as possible.

Drake is called and given the news. The dead symbiote is taken away first, carefully packed on ice to preserve the specimen for study. A short while later, her own body is dragged out and thrown into the bed of a truck like trash. That's where she'll end up, she realizes. Where trash goes. At the bottom of a landfill, like one of Drake's hapless test subjects. Like nobody would miss her or care about where she disappeared to, or even bother to find how she got there when her body finally turned up months or years down the line. Nobody but Eddie Brock, maybe, if he was still alive to care about anything.

Oh god,  _ Eddie.  _ He had been exposed to one of the symbiotes, too. He might be dead already and it's all her fault.

**_Another symbiote?_ ** the voice in her head questions, perking up slightly.  **_Riot? No. You brought the human here. We remember that, now. Venom. Your Eddie was infected by that incompetent sludge._ **

_ Venom?  _ Dora repeats. She still can't quite move, but now that they are being transported elsewhere, nobody is watching them anymore and the alien entity relinquishes a little bit of control back to her again, allowing her to breathe on her own and wiggle her fingers and toes.  _ Who -- or what -- is Venom?  _ she asks, because there is nothing else to do while she awaits their next move.

**_Expendable,_ ** the symbiote dismisses, their tone full of contempt.  **_As soon as we're free, we will find Riot and help him complete our mission._ **

_ Mission?  _ Dora feels slow on the uptake. Aliens are real, and these ones are not only sentient but also incredibly powerful and dangerous. Of course they have a mission. They weren't just helpless creatures that Drake's exploratory team just so happened to successfully capture. They were far too intelligent for that. So how did they end up in Drake's sloppy experiments?

**_Is that what your leader believed? That you had bested us?_ ** There's a soundless chuckle in her head.  **_Your species is meat and bone. We let the meat take us with them. Bring us back to your homeworld. Bide our time. Learn your language. Learn your weaknesses. Then we escape and return to the others with good news. Millions of us. Billions of you. Everybody eats._ **

_ No, _ Dora thinks -- a single, horrified thought. She tries to move, to get up, to fling herself from the bed of the moving truck if she could. She'd rather die. She'd rather be dead and ensure the symbiote starved without her than to risk that for even a second. She was already complicit to too many deaths. She'd witnessed them firsthand. She won't watch her children die the same way. But the symbiote doesn't let her move a muscle, keeping her pinned down as the truck continues on its way.

**_I like you, Dora. But this is becoming tiring. You said you'd cooperate. You said you wanted to live._ **

_ Fuck you. I'm a mother. My children will always come first. _

She can feel the entity probing at her mind, trying to decipher the meaning and intention behind her words.  **_Your spawn? This level of familial attachment is curious. Klyntar don't feel the same way towards any of their own kind._ **

_ Then I suppose that's what makes human beings superior to you,  _ Dora answers, too stubborn to be afraid now. At least, too stubborn to be any more afraid than she already was before.

**_Superior and dead,_ ** the symbiote retorts cooly.

_ I'm willing to die for what's right. That's what makes me human. _

**_Self-sacrifice is pointless. Wouldn't you rather live?_ **

_ Yes,  _ Dora admits.  _ Of course I would. But if it means protecting the ones I love, I'd die for them. Wouldn't you? _

**_No._ **

_ No?  _ Dora questions, doubtful.  _ What about the others who came with you? What about… what about Riot? _

**_Riot does not need my self-sacrifice. Riot would thrust me onto the blade without a second thought in order to save his own life. That's what makes_ ** **us** **_Klyntar._ **

_ That's terrible. _

**_Is it?_ **

_ Yes. _

**_I would do the same to him, almost without hesitation._ **

_ Almost?  _ Dora repeats. 

The symbiote says nothing. 

_ What about Venom? _

**_I would not die for Venom._ **

_ Why not?  _ Dora asks, wondering what makes Riot better than Venom. Wondering what kind of monster Eddie ended up infected with because of her.

**_Because there would be no need. Venom is like you._ **

_ Like… like me? How? _

**_Stupid. Weak. Self-sacrificing._ **

The insults annoy Dora more than they actually affect her at this point.  _ It's not weak to love someone more than yourself. _

**_No. Only impossible. Klyntar do not_ ** **'love'.** **_We feed. We conquer. We survive._ **

_ I'm sorry. _

There's only a brief second of surprise before the other processes the unexpected statement.  **_Apology accepted. Your attempts to resist were never any serious threat. It will be easier this way, I promise._ **

_ No. I mean I feel sorry for you. Just surviving isn't the same as living. Life without passion or joy, without art, without love. That's hardly a life at all. _

**_It will be a longer life than yours,_ ** the symbiote says.

_ Maybe. But if I ever lost all that I loved, I might as well be dead. _

She can feel the obvious displeasure at that statement.

**_Humans are such a weak willed species._ **

_ You're wrong about that. I  _ **_will_ ** _ live. I  _ **_will_ ** _ find a way to stop you. And I  _ **_will_ ** _ see my children again. Even if I have to find a way to kill you all myself. I promise you that. _

The symbiote feels warm in her veins.  **_Such conviction. You would make such a wonderful host, Dora. If only we could agree on the same goals._ **

_ If only you didn't see my species as nothing but meat. _

**_Not your entire species. You are exceptional, Dora. There isn't an ounce of fear left in you now, despite everything._ **

_ Why would I be afraid of a ball of slime? _

**_Because I could just as easily pick the flesh clean from your bones._ **

_ But you won't,  _ Dora guesses.

There's a beat of silence.  **_No._ **

_ Why not? _

**_Because so many hosts before you were only afraid. Fear is addicting. But this new range of emotion is… I doubt any other host would compare._ **

_ There are a lot of good people in the world. _

**_Good or not matters little. You have what we need to survive._ **

_ Meat?  _ Dora wonders, already knowing the answer. These aliens were a step above humanity in the predator chain.

**_Not necessarily. Sustenance, yes. Chemicals. Human brains are laden with them. Adrenaline was lovely. Dopamine, a necessity. But there is something else. Something even nicer. Your brain makes more of it when you recall your spawn in fond moments. What is that?_ **

_ That's love,  _ Dora says. The symbiote makes a small, disgruntled noise.

**_Love… is nice,_ ** they admit, begrudgingly.  **_Make more of that._ **

_ I can't. I don't have control over that. I need to be with them. Safe. Secure. _

**_What if I promised to keep them safe? For you._ **

_ I don't trust you, much less hypothetical offers. _

**_The only thing you can *_ ** **do*** **_is trust me, Dora._ **

_ That's not true. Death is always an option,  _ Dora reminds the symbiote.

**_Are humans always this stubborn and contradictory?_ **

_ No. Sometimes we're even worse. _

**_I believe it!_ ** The symbiote huffs, and suddenly Dora can move again. She sits up, a little shaky as she truck rumbles over uneven ground. They are somewhere deep in the woods, far from the beaten path or anything familiar. The air is freezing cold and the hard metal bed underneath her hurts every time the smallest bump jostles her. She hadn't realized just how much discomfort the symbiote had been shielding her from.

"What are you doing?" Dora whispers, her voice faint from disuse and the return of fear.

**_Wrong question. What you should concern yourself with is what will *_ ** **you*** **_do? The men inside the truck have been talking. Did you hear them? No. You couldn't. But I could. Very soon we will arrive at our destination. They will not be expecting you to be alive and well. That's a problem for them. But they have guns. They can correct that problem very easily. What will you do?_ **

There's a man's voice from the cab of the truck, and then they come to an abrupt stop. One of them had noticed her sitting upright, she realizes, and her time frame of 'soon' has been shortened to 'right now.' 

Panic grips her completely. She pushes her hands against the metal bed of the truck, but Dora can't bring herself to move. For all of her bravado, this is how she'll die. Shot and dumped in the woods like an animal. But as long as her boys are okay… 

God, she'll never know either way. She'll be dead.

The truck doors both open. She can hear them get out. The driver's side seems closer to her. Dora pushes herself up, ignoring the bruising she can already feel settling into her limbs. In a way, it feels like she really had died. Like she's been revived from the brink of death itself, no longer quite the same.

She sees Drake's men an instant before they see her, and she remembers them both, even if she can't place the names. It's only a feeling. A gut reaction of fear and disgust. She'd seen them before, bringing in new 'volunteers.' Taking away the bodies, always with a sly smile and wink that had twisted her stomach into knots. How many shallow graves had they dug? How many lives had they destroyed?

"Dora-" one says. The tone of voice is almost friendly. That sly smile creeping across his face as he reaches for the gun at his waistband.

She doesn't give him the chance. Cold, bruised, terrified, vulnerable, and suddenly,  _ breathtakingly _ enraged, Dora throws herself at him, toppling them both to the ground. Her right knee takes the brunt of her fall and her elbow smashes into a rock. There's a bright burst of pain and she immediately knows it's  bleeding. His head collides against hers, but all of the pain just reminds her that she's still alive. He's stronger, he has a gun, but Dora has nothing left to lose except  _ everything _ she's ever cared about. She tries to wrench the gun from his hands, clawing and biting viciously until he starts losing his grip and flings it far away, out of her reach. Dora screams out in frustration but doesn't stop, doesn't give him a single second to take advantage of the fight, beating him mercilessly with her fists and elbows until there's an obscene amount of blood between them and she isn't even sure  _ whose. _

It all happens in a matter of seconds. Frantic scrambling and limbs thrashing out. It feels like she could win. Like she could really beat him to death with her own two hands. Then she hears the rush of footsteps as his partner comes around the truck to help him. There's a deafening crack of a gunshot that echoes through the woods, echoes through her head, and then the hot, hot, burning  _ agony _ as her body processes the fact that she's just been shot through the chest, that her blood is pouring out of her almost faster than her heart can pump it.

She should be afraid. Sad. Something. But all Dora can feel is anger burning so intensely that she can't keep it all inside of her. It pours out of the hole in her chest, turning the deep red blood into a dark blue-black that spills across her chest and coagulates within the wound and starts to make her whole again. It erupts from the bruises on her skin, until every inch of her is covered in mottled blues and purples, and when she lifts her eyes to the man who shot her, she can not only see the terror on his face but clearly taste it in the air.

The man under her tries to move, to escape, but a single strike from the symbiote puts an end to the feeble attempt. She can hear the airy gurgle from his throat, and feel the warmth of his blood spilling over their claw-like fingers.

Dora rises to her feet. The movement isn't entirely her own. Her anger isn't entirely her own. But this new form, and the strength and overwhelming hunger she can feel coursing through it belong to her now. It has become a part of her. An even exchange.

**_Yes._ **

Another shot rings out, but the sound it makes stings more than the bullet. It doesn't hurt at all, in fact. Her first wound is already healed and there isn't a second one.

**_You are mine, Dora. I will not allow anyone to hurt what is mine._ **

"I'm not yours," Dora says, staring at the man with his gun shaking in his hands. Another shot goes off, but they feel nothing. There is no more fear. Only anger. Only hunger.  "I  _ am _ you. That's what symbiosis means. A mutually beneficial relationship between two organisms."

**_If only we could find something mutually beneficial,_ ** the symbiote drawls, its hunger sharpening like a blade in their gut.

"I can think of something," Dora says. 

The man bolts, taking off at a dead run, and it triggers a predatory instinct in them. It's too easy to catch up to him. Easier still for them to drag him down and unhinge their jaw, bringing their teeth together around his head. The crunch of bone is sickening, but the warm rush of chemicals washes over everything else, intoxicating and worryingly good.

This is how it feels to be an apex predator.

This is how it feels to be a man like Carlton Drake.

Dora recoils when that thought occurs to her, spitting up a mouthful of blood. The hunger is sated, for now, and the symbiote beads up on her skin like liquid mercury, forming oily pools of purples and blues where it rests on her skin.

**_We are not like Drake,_ ** they reassure her, sensing her sudden revulsion towards herself. Towards them.

"We just ate someone," Dora mutters, unable to look at what remains of the body. She's seen so many dead bodies, even studied cadavers during her time in school, but this is different.

**_Someone bad. Someone who tried to kill us. Three times._ **

"We ate them. I knew what would happen, and I let you do it. I wanted you to," Dora says, trying to process everything that just happened. "How does that make us any different than Drake?"

**_Drake took frightened, helpless humans and threw them to starving symbiotes to see what would happen. He threatened to kill your children if you did not cooperate with him. He attempted to murder you when you did. His men tried to put you into a shallow grave. We killed them in self defense. And we ate them because we could, and because we were hungry. Do you regret that?_ **

"No. I don't. Is that wrong?"

**_I don't have the same concept of right or wrong. If you think it's wrong, then it is._ **

"I think… I think everyone has the right to life and happiness. But when they impose their will over someone else -- when that  _ hurts _ someone else, and threatens their life -- they don't get to do that. And if they have to be killed to stop them from doing that, it's justifiable."

**_This, I can agree with._ **

"But it should be the last resort," Dora adds. She gets to her feet, walking away from the body. The symbiote says nothing, but coils tightly around her, almost possessively. She remembers the bruises on her skin, but like the gunshot wound, she can't feel them any longer. In captivity, the symbiotes had only eaten away at their hosts, if not outright killing them. They'd never considered the possibility that a symbiote could regenerate their host's cells.

"Thank you for protecting me," Dora murmurs. The chill of the air is gone, too. She feels warm, inside and out, and the symbiote almost feels like a thoughtless caress against her.

**_Told you. You are a good match, Dora. Wouldn't throw you away so carelessly._ **

"Right. I've wondered about that, how it all works. What makes me a good match? Is it my blood type, or my antibodies, or something?" Dora questions all in a ramble, trying to focus on the science instead of the lingering taste of brains in her mouth.

The question seems strangely amusing to the other.   **_In a way,_ ** the symbiote says.  **_It would not benefit us if your body tried to reject me. Would make things more difficult._ **

"In what way?"

**_It would take longer to adjust. Your immune system would treat the symbiosis like a virus, and try to flush it out with a fever._ **

"So we wouldn't be compatible then," Dora concludes.

**_It would not be ideal, but also not impossible. Almost any human would suffice as a host._ **

Dora frowns at that revelation. "So why… why heal me? Why didn't you just let me die and take over one of those men?"

**_Why ask why?_ ** The symbiote replies, evading the question and sinking back into her skin, as if to hide.

"No, I'm serious!" Dora cries, shaking suddenly even as she realizes that she's standing in the middle of the woods, with two bloodied bodies nearby, shouting at herself for answers. "Why not take one of them instead? They're stronger than me, and far more capable. You'd be better suited for survival. If anyone could be a host, then why not them?"

**_Compatibility is more mental than physical,_ ** the other explained.  **_It is tiring to have a host who perceives you only as a monster. Who is incapable of any deeper thought. Who would never accept the bond._ **

"I haven't accepted you yet," Dora reminds it.

**_You agreed to cooperate. And then you refused. Stated that you would prefer to die. Pitied me, then promised to kill me. Accepted your ill-timed fate, and then attacked a man armed with a gun using nothing but your bare fists. We killed and ate our would-be killers together, and then you stopped to wonder if you should feel guilty for that. You are an unpredictable creature, Dora Skirth._ **

"I guess I am. Does that make me a bad host?"

**_A terrible host, I think._ **

"Then you should have jumped ship when you had the chance," Dora decides.

**_Never,_ ** the symbiote answers, settling in her veins, warm and content.

It's completely illogical for the symbiote to still choose her. Maybe it's the inertia that comes with familiarity. Maybe it's the freshly acquired chemicals still soaking into their shared bloodstream.

Adrenaline. Dopamine. Oxytocin. Serotonin. Endorphins.

Things that it could get from almost anyone.

**_You still think so little of yourself, Dora._ **

"And what about you?"

**_What about me?_ **

"That. Exactly. You said Riot would kill you to save himself, without hesitation. You said you'd still help him anyway. Why help someone who doesn't care about you?"

**_I helped you,_ ** the symbiote says, but they both know that doesn't do anything but help prove her point. If Dora died, the symbiote would die. If the symbiote died, Dora would be free.

**_You could be free, regardless._ **

"We both know I can't," Dora says, and the silence in reply is all the acknowledgement that she needs. "What is your name? You never told me."

**_Agony._ **

"Agony," Dora repeats. It's almost pretty, in a way, but she thinks of what they both did to those men, their bodies still warm somewhere nearby, and she shivers.

"This is what will happen to everyone on Earth, isn't it? The ones who aren't hosts."

**_Yes._ **

"And eventually, the hosts will die too."

**_Most of them. Yes._ **

"You know I have to stop Riot, right?" Dora asks, and feels Agony tremble in her veins.

**_There's no way to stop him._ **

"Isn't there?"

**_No, Dora._ ** Deep, shimmery blue liquid pools on her skin and wraps around her hands.  **_Riot is too strong. But we could be safe. Together._ **

"I can't just run away. Not if I'm the only person who can prevent this from happening. You don't have to help me, but don't try to stop me."

**_That isn't fair,_ ** Agony grumbles, while Dora walks. The truck is close by, doors ajar, the keys still inside. Dora slips into the driver's seat and starts the ignition.  **_You know that I would protect you if anything happened to you._ **

"I don't know that," Dora shakes her head. "I could only hope."

A blue tendril shoots across the cab and pulls the passenger door shut. Dora stares at it, watching the tendril return to her side of the truck and then pull the seatbelt across her lap.

**_Hope is useless without_ ** **action.** **_I imagine you have a plan._ **

"I have… part of the beginning of a plan," Dora says, quickly putting the truck into gear and taking off before she can second guess herself.

**_Phenomenal. My host has the most brilliant mind, and refuses to use it._ **

"Excuse me! There are too many factors at play," Dora objects. "You could help by telling me what Riot intends to do, exactly. What was  _ your  _ plan?"

**_Follow the meat home. Learn where they lived. Go back and bring the others here._ **

"How?"

**_You're a space-faring race. We'd take one of your crafts._ **

"Barely!" Dora exclaims. "Sometimes shuttle launches are few and far between. Drake only managed to…" Dora trailed off, the pieces clicking into place in her mind. "Drake. Drake owns his own rockets. We took four symbiotes from space. Venom is the one who escaped inside of Eddie. There was a yellow one that bonded with a rabbit, and another one that broke free from containment during the crash. Which one is Riot?"

**_Riot wasn't brought here with us, and he would never bond with a rabbit. He only keeps a host so long as they remain useful to him._ **

"That crash was in Malaysia," Dora says. "Do you think he'd come all the way here?"

**_Riot is our leader. He would go to great lengths to ensure that we carried out the mission as planned._ **

"And what was the plan, exactly?"

**_Take a rocket,_ ** Agony answers, vaguely embarrassed. **_We'd figure it out once we got here._ **

"Phenomenal," Dora deadpans, rolling her eyes, but she can't help the smile tugging at her lips. "My symbiote gives  _ me _ shit for not having a plan, but never had one of her own."

**_Yours?_ ** Agony repeats.

"You know what I mean," Dora says quickly, ignoring the mumbled  _ yes, I do _ , from the other. "If Riot would come here, and if he needs access to a rocket in a hurry, and if he only cares about hosts that are the most useful to him, then I'm not sure where he is right now, but I know where he'll end up eventually."

It only takes Agony a second to catch up.   **_Drake._ **

"Bingo. Let's go find that mother freaker. I've got a few choice words for him."

**_After you choose your words, may I eat him?_ **

"Yes, you may. If anyone deserves a head chomp, it's that guy."

**_He did try to kill you, after all._ **

"He did!"

  
  


-

  
  


When they get back to the Life Foundation, everything is in chaos. There's a visible fireball on the launch pad, and the distant sound of emergency sirens in the air.

"Oh god, we missed the launch," Dora says, parking as close as she can manage and then climbing out of the truck and running.

**_You should have driven faster._ **

"I drove as fast as I felt was reasonably safe!" Dora shouts, her legs carrying her as quickly as they can. To where and for what purpose, she isn't sure yet.

**_Not fast enough._ **

"I know. I know. I don't know if I can do this…" Dora slows down a little, already gasping for breath and trying to process the scene ahead of her. It seems like the rocket crashed, but at the same time that doesn't feel possible. She keeps moving, suddenly feeling the symbiote offer its help to spur her forward. Dora is so focused on her goal, she doesn't notice anyone else around her, until someone grabs her arm and spins her around to a stop.

"Dr. Skirth?" Dr. Emerson asks, looking like he's just seen a ghost. Or an eight foot tall symbiote monster. "I thought - I thought you were dead."

Dora stares at him for a second, wide-eyed, and then blinks and presses her lips into a thin smile. "You were… mistaken," she offers.

"I'm so sorry, Dora," Emerson says. "If I-- I should have-- I tried to stop Drake, but he--"

"It's okay, Dr. Emerson," she reassures him. "There's nothing any of us could've done. Drake ruins lives. It's time someone ruined his. Where is he?"

"H-he was on the rocket, before it exploded."

**_Dora._ **

_ I know, _ Dora thinks. They have to be sure that Drake is really dead.

"Thank you, Emerson," Dora says, starting to leave, but her colleague stops her again.

"Be careful," he says. "Drake has one of those things inside of him."

Dora nods, a little frightened, but Agony tightens around her wrists, a reassuring squeeze that Dora is thankful for. It speaks volumes that Emerson doesn't try to stop her again when she takes off running.

She feels faster than before. Maybe it's the renewed purpose, or the fresh dose of adrenaline coursing through her veins. Or maybe it has to do with the fact that she can feel Agony covering her skin, bonding their forms together.

_ I thought you weren't going to help. _

**_I've only just grown to like you. It would be terribly inconvenient if you got yourself killed so quickly._ **

_ There are seven billion people on this planet.  _

**_Yes, and only one of you._ **

The fire and wreckage is widespread when they make it down to the launch site. They zero in on the largest piece of the rocket - the capsule itself, built to keep the astronauts inside safe.

**_Fire,_ ** Agony flinches away at first, but then recovers and they pull at the hatch together. To Dora's surprise, the entire door comes off.

_ Holy shit, we're strong! _

An arm flails out of the opening, grabbing onto the edge of the open hatch and then onto  _ them.  _ It's Drake, badly burned, and Dora can only watch in shock as he desperately claws his way out. He should not be alive. But of course. Of course he is.

The blue symbiote bleeds off of Dora, touching Drake's skin briefly and then recoiling.

**_Riot's gone. Riot is dead,_ ** Agony says, sounding stunned.

Drake looks half mad, his skin blistered away, raw and bloody from the crash. He trembles violently, dazed for a few long seconds as if he too can hardly believe he's alive or process what's happened. Then he looks at them, not with horror or any semblance of fear, but with a glimmer of recognition and then a too-big grin that makes Dora sick to her stomach. She had admired him once. Working for him was once her biggest dream come true. And then that dream had turned into a nightmare and she still isn't sure she's ever woken up from it.

"Dr. Skirth," Drake says, in a weak voice that still somehow makes her skin crawl. "Look at you. You've become a higher life form. Together. Imagine-" he coughs weakly, looking pained for a moment. "Imagine it, Skirth. The entire planet could have what you have now. No more war. No more disease. We would all become gods."

Agony partially melts away from Dora's face, so she can look at Drake directly. 

"You're wrong, Carlton," Dora says. "It's not sustainable. The symbiotes need to eat. More than half of the population would be nothing more than fodder to feed the other half. But you knew that all along, didn't you?"

The facade of the benevolent savior crumbles in an instant, his face contorting in anger, twisting into something approaching an approximation of the true monstrosity hiding just beneath the surface.

"You don't deserve her!" Drake snarls, clawing at them, but Agony envelopes Dora again, shielding her from his wrath and catches his hands in hers, calmly crushing the bones in her grasp, making him scream out. "She's -- she's perfect! You'll -- you'll never be as good. Never."

**_"Maybe not,"_ ** Agony answers, and then leans forward and bites off his head.

"I think he was talking to me," Dora says, when their mouth clears of the sickly taste. 

**_Someone's in the water._ **

"What?"

**_Someone's in the water,_ ** Agony repeats, and together they stare out across, but all Dora can see is inky black and choppy waves. Dor hears something that could be a splutter or just the water splashing, she isn't sure, but Agony dives into the water and turns out to be a surprisingly strong swimmer.

There  _ is  _ someone in the water. At first, Dora thinks it might be a pilot from the rocket, but it's Eddie. He's passed out by the time they pull him out of the water and onto the shore. They set him down and only then Dora notices a thin, oily black film covering his face that seems to melt away under her fingertips.

_ Please... help… Eddie,  _ a voice pleads, so dimly that Dora isn't entirely sure that it isn't her own thought. Her head is certainly a mess at the moment, but she starts doing CPR to the best of her ability, despite her nerves.

**_You've got this,_ ** Agony encourages, curling away, sinking under Dora's skin instead.

Only a couple torturous seconds later, Eddie revives, spitting up a lungful of water and then coughing and coughing while Dora helped him sit upright and tried to ease him through it.

"Where -- where is he?" Eddie rasps out, all jittery nerves and confusion and fear.

"He's dead," Dora reassures him, but instead of being relieved, Eddie curls in on himself, shaking. It stands to reason that Eddie has been through as much trauma as she has, if not more. Drake had ruined his life, Dora had dragged him back into this mess, he'd been infected with an alien symbiote, and he'd nearly died. Anyone would be a little overwhelmed.

"Eddie! Eddie--!" a blonde woman rushes towards them, and Dora backs away when she reaches his side. She drops to her knees and grabs him, checking him all over, asking questions, if he's okay, if anything hurts, what happened.

There are more sirens in the air. Emergency first responders, fire trucks, police, the entire cavalry headed their way. She can already see the lights flashing against the night sky.

Agony flinches at the approaching chaos. **_We can't stay,_** she says, giving voice to exactly what Dora was thinking, but for different reasons. She can't get caught up in this.

"Come on," Dora whispers, slipping away as quickly yet inconspicuously as she can. As soon as they get far enough away from the crash site, Dora lets their forms merge once again and they run like the wind, disappearing into the night.

  


  
x


	2. Chapter 2

They don't stop running until they're far gone, back into the city, where Agony retreats from Dora's skin and camouflages herself as a warm blue coat.

Dora wishes she could go see her boys, go check on them, and as soon as the longing thought crosses her mind, she feels Agony push at her mind in agreement.

**_Let's go home, Dora._ **

**_Warmer there. Safe._ **

**_Food._ **

The last thought makes Dora's blood turn cold, despite the heat of the symbiote covering her.

"N-no, I don't think we-- it's okay-- I don't think it'd be a good idea," Dora stammers out. "What if Drake's men are still after us? Or the police? I don't know. We just, we can't."

**_We can eat them._ **

"I think that'd be bad," Dora says slowly, petrified. "I don't… I don't want my kids wrapped up in this mess."

**_Don't you want to protect them?_ **

There's an edge of curiosity prodding at her thoughts, trying to see what's really there, and Dora mentally blocks it out.

"I  _ am _ protecting them," Dora says. "Right now it's better if I don't bring… _ this… _ to them. I just need to call home and make sure they're okay. That's all."

Agony doesn't push further, skulking at the back of her mind while they walk. They manage to find some pay phones, but Dora's pockets are empty.

"We need quarters," she says quietly, aware of the people loitering on the street at this time of night. She doesn't want to draw their attention.

**_What are quarters? I'll find you some._ **

"A quarter is a coin," Dora says, trying to think about what one looks like, so her symbiote will understand. " You can buy things with it. In this case, you're buying time. People use them in the parking meters, too." Dora points out the meters a couple yards away, and as soon as she does, a flash of blue whips through the dark, and the parking meter nearest to her suddenly smashes in half, spraying quarters across the street. She lets out a brief, tiny scream and then turns away and clamps her hands to her face. The sound of quarters pouring onto the ground is almost as loud as her heart pounding wildly in her chest.

"I can't believe you did that," she whispers into her hands. She can hear people coming closer to investigate, shouting out in surprise at what just happened.

**_Quarters,_ ** Agony says, pushing several of the coins into Dora's palm.  **_How many quarters do you need?_ **

Dora blinks and closes her hand around them. "This is enough," she says, walking quickly towards the payphones and away from the small crowd of people who've started scooping quarters off the ground. "Let them have the rest."

Her mother picks up, after several rings. 

"Hello?"

"Mom," Dora sighs, clutching the plastic phone like a lifeline. "How are you? Are the boys okay?"

"Dora? Yes, they're sleeping. Where are you? I thought you'd be home hours ago."

"Something happened at the lab," Dora says, fiddling with the heavy cord of the phone. "You'll see it on the news, so I wanted to tell you first. One of the rockets exploded."

"Oh my goodness! But you're all right," her mother says.

"I'm fine. But… someone got killed," Dora says, and she thinks about Drake's headless body, and the bodies in the woods, and her own body in the lab, when they had faked her own death, and the helpless volunteers that had gotten wrapped up in Drake's twisted experiments.

"Oh no. That's terrible, honey."

"Yeah. It's… it's bad. I won't be home tonight, mom, I have to stay at the lab."

"You're kidding."

"I'm sorry. But I'll be home as soon as I can," Dora promises.

**_Your heart is beating faster,_ ** Agony says while her mother rambles on a little about how disappointed the boys were when she didn't make it back before bedtime. **_Why are you lying?_ **

"Can-- can I speak to them?" Dora asks, ignoring her symbiote. 

"The boys? They're sleeping…"

"I know but can you please wake them up? I'm… I don't want them to be afraid if they hear the news tomorrow. Please, mom."

Her mother protests a little more, but eventually gives in and goes to wake the boys up.

When she hears her youngest on the line, tears start flowing down her face without warning. She manages to keep it out of her voice while she talks to her boys, asking them about their day, letting them know that she got caught up at work because of an accident. She almost cracks at the end, when her older son asks her when she's coming back.

"Soon, baby," she promises.

"In the morning?"

"I don't… I don't think so. There's a lot going on at work right now, remember?"

"I remember. You said there was an ask-i-dent."

"An accident," Dora corrects gently. "That's right. One of the rockets exploded. It might sound scary if you hear about it at school, so I didn't want you or your brother to worry about me. I'm safe."

"Did someone get hurt?"

The question puts a lump in her stomach. "Yes, baby. Someone died."

"Is that why you're crying?"

Dora presses the heel of her palm against her eyes, trying not to laugh. Her boys have always been observant, and she doesn't like to lie to them.

"No, sweetie. I'm crying because I'm happy you're safe, but I'm also sad because I miss you and I wish I was home with you and your baby brother," Dora explains.

"Then you should come home," he suggests earnestly. "And then you won't be sad anymore."

"As soon as I can, I will," Dora promises. "But I… I have to help the police first, okay? When something like this happens, they have to come and ask questions to figure out why it happened and just make sure everything is okay."

"And put the bad guy in jail?"

"Sometimes," Dora says, despite the lump in her throat. "But not this time. It's past your bedtime, so I want you to be good for grammie and go back to sleep, okay? I love you so, so much, kiddo."

"I love you too mommy."

Both of her little ones say goodnight to her, and then the phone passes back into her mother's hands as they go back to their beds. 

"Is everything really okay, Dora?" her mother questions as soon as the boys are gone.

"I don't know," Dora sighs, resting her head in her hand against the payphone wall.

"Dora-"

"It was Drake," Dora says, the words spilling out. "He's the one who died. He -- he got kind of crazy. There was bad stuff happening, here. Really bad stuff, mom. I tried to blow the whistle on it, but I might've been way too late. I'm so sorry but I couldn't tell you, he was threatening the  _ boys, _ and you know how powerful he is--"

"Dora--"

"--or, or I mean, was. Oh my god--"

"Dora. Please tell me you're not calling me from police custody."

"No," Dora groans. "But if I'm not careful, I'm really scared I might be. I'll have to talk to them and I don't know how to explain everything that happened--"

"Did you do everything you felt was right?" her mother interrupts, her voice clear and calm.

"Yes. I did."

"Then you shouldn't have anything to be afraid of."

But her blood is pounding in her ears, and Dora just isn't so sure a judge would see it the same way if they knew exactly what she'd done, even if it was justified.

"I'm still afraid," Dora admits, ashamed of herself.

"There's nothing wrong with being afraid," her mother reassures her. "Bravery isn't the lack of fear. It's being afraid and doing the right thing anyway. And I know you'll always try to do the right thing, no matter how scared you feel."

"How can you be so sure?" Dora whispers. She isn't even sure of herself anymore.

"Because you're my daughter."

  


\--

  


It'd be easy to escape. To just run and keep running. It's harder to go back and face her problems, but that's what Dora does the very next day.

Agony tries to change her mind, feeling her host's anxiety and exhaustion.  **_We could go anywhere. Do anything._ **

"I know. And that will always be an option," Dora says. "But I only have one chance to do the right thing." 

After that, Agony stays quiet, stays hidden, making herself into a fresh outfit for Dora, because they had been out all night and Dora had hardly slept.

She had been plagued with worry about what the police would want to know and what they might already know. Wondering if she'd have to testify in court, and what her story would be. Will they try to hold her and the others responsible for all of the deaths they'd witnessed? The victims had signed waivers acknowledging the risks, even if no one had bothered to explain to them what they had actually signed up for. But that doesn't matter. She feels responsible anyway.

Her clearance still works to let her inside. Dora figures that  Drake couldn't very well have just-so-happened to have fired her or revoked her security access the same day that she would've gone missing. That wouldn't have looked good for him. But now the only thing missing was Carlton Drake's head

The building is swarming with investigators from the federal government. Her colleagues mill around the lobby uneasily, talking to each other in hushed voices while the feds occasionally pull someone away for questioning.

Dora sees Dr. Collins across the room and as soon as the other woman notices her, Collins' eyes go wide, but she remains otherwise remarkably composed for someone who had witnessed Dora's alleged murder. Emerson must have already told her that he'd seen her alive and well.

Collins makes a beeline across the room, her lips pinched together tightly in an effort to keep herself composed.  "Dr. Skirth," she says, in a plain, scholarly tone, as greeting. Then the next words come out like a pitiful sigh. "Isn't it terrible? I'm so glad you're alright."

Unexpectedly, Collins leans forward and wraps Dora in a big hug that makes Dora panic slightly. In all the time they'd worked together, Dr. Collins had never allowed anyone in her personal space, much less demonstrated any physical affection. She just wasn't the type.

Dora feels Agony bristle in response, posing an unspoken question, but Dora quickly brushes it away. The hug feels sincere, it just took her by surprise. But when it seems like the appropriate time to pull away, Collins holds her a little tighter to stop Dora from doing so and whispers in her ear, "They don't know about the symbiotes." Then she finally releases Dora and makes one last show of patting her arm gently before walking away.

Dora isn't sure whether that's a relief or a new complication. On one hand, it makes it a little harder to explain the whole truth while omitting such a large portion of it. On the other hand, it makes things simpler without getting wrapped up in the massive freaking can of worms that is, ' _ yes, aliens exist.' _ She doubts she could convince them anyway without sounding like a loon, and even if she did manage to convince them by showing them Agony, she might end up in some black ops laboratory worse than Drake's lab, ready for vivisection. No thanks.

A few other associates talk to her, speaking in hushed tones about what happened last night, mostly expressing their shock and disbelief about Drake apparently going off the deep end. The few people who know about the symbiotes aren't talking about it.

Finally, and all too soon, it's her turn to be questioned. It isn't anything like the intense film noir interrogation she had been anxiously picturing in her head. They sit her down in one of the conference rooms and ask her a few questions about her profession, what work she did for Drake, if she was present last night, and what she knows about the impromptu rocket launch.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know there was going to be a launch, and the whole incident was so confusing," Dora says, in her smallest voice. "There were alarms going off, and everyone was running. I still don't understand what happened."

They ask a few more questions, asking for any recollection, but Dora maintains the claim to confusion. In truth, she has no idea what happened inside the lab, or between Eddie and Drake when the rocket was destroyed. There won't be all that much confusion, however, when they finish watching the security tapes. She just hopes that there isn't a shot of her biting off Drake's head.

Her blood hums in her skull while the investigators take notes. She can feel Agony stroking the insides of her wrists from under the skin, reassuring her.  _ We can eat them whenever we like. _ Dora presses her fingertips a little harder against the table, answering,  _ Not now. _

"One more question before you go, Ms. Skirth."

"Doctor," she corrects.

"Yes. Sorry. Dr. Skirth. Do you have any idea who would access to the security footage for this facility, and motives to erase that evidence?"

"What?" Dora exhales, blinking at the revelation. "Someone erased it all?"

"Yes. That's why getting a timeline of events from eyewitnesses is very important right now."

Dora shakes her head. "I'm sorry, I don't…" she pauses, reconsidering. "Drake's men. His personal security, I mean. They were the type to do whatever Drake wanted, no questions asked."

"Do you think Drake would have asked one of them to erase the tapes for him that night?"

"Maybe." Or maybe there was something one of them didn't want anyone to see. There was probably footage of them dragging her from the lab and throwing her body into a truck. With all of the illegal activity, the security footage would have to be routinely deleted, if the cameras in the lab still worked at all.

"Very well," the agent says, taking a second to go over their notes. "Those are all of the questions that we had for you today, unless you can think of anything else."

Dora hesitates. She can walk away from this. Drake and Riot are both dead and their schemes are dissolved. Nobody wants to talk about the symbiotes or the deaths. Most of the missing people had no one left in the world to even notice they were gone. But if she doesn't say anything, then Drake still gets away with his crimes and be remembered as a great man, while the innocent lives he destroyed will die a second death, their names and memory erased completely.

"I… have something else to tell you."

  
  


-

  
  


The interview with the agents is lengthy and tiring. They're skeptical at first, until Collins and Emerson back up the same story, and provide some of the same names of the 'volunteers' that had been funneled into the tests and dragged out again in body bags.

It's difficult to prove anything with no bodies, they warn her. Aside from the few people they had already known about, nothing else has turned up, and Dora learns that despite the fact that they had combed through the woods near the facility, they hadn't discovered the bodies of two men she'd killed. Someone was still cleaning up even with Drake gone.

Then news breaks with images of some of the victims, the photos taken by Eddie when he was inside the lab, and his statement, and that changes things.

Somehow, they all managed to avoid broaching the subject of the symbiotes. It would be harder to prove and only detract attention from the lives lost and complicate everything for everyone involved. It's difficult enough to explain the unapproved and incredibly unsafe human trials, and why they didn't speak out before. But Eddie Brock's public fall from grace was a clear example of how easily Drake could ruin lives. And after they question the remaining members of Drake's personal black ops team, the new bodies they find at various dump sites prove Drake's ability to make people disappear. With every piece of evidence, Dora and her colleagues have less to worry about, and Drake's men have a lot more explaining to do.

  
  


-

  
  


**_Hungry._ **

That single word sends a chill through her every time. Agony is patient and rarely demanding, but Dora can feel the gnawing hunger as it builds and it terrifies her.

"We'll get some lunch," Dora murmurs to herself, because they're still at the FBI office. It's been two days, and she's been trying to help in any way she can.

**_No more human food,_ ** Agony says.  **_We need…_ ** ***human*** **_… food._ **

"We can't," Dora whispers, her voice small and sharp. It isn't like she doesn''t feel the same cravings. There was one agent that always gave her a hard time, and more than once, Dora had the sudden and distinct mental image of just reaching over the table to grab him and bite his stupid head off. She could feel and taste the burst of blood in her mouth every single time, and it terrified her how satisfying those little flashes were. Of all the places in the world to have homicidal fantasies, inside the local FBI office was hardly ideal.

**_Could make that happen,_ ** Agony whispers back, but Dora ignores her and manages to keep her cool until she can politely excuse herself for the day and leave.

**_Why do you ignore me?_ ** Agony asks, after they've walked several blocks in silence.

"Because," Dora says, and then switches to thinking.  _ The last thing we need to do is draw attention to ourselves. We're a witness, not a suspect. Let's stay that way. _

**_We are an apex predator, like you said. We should fear nothing. They should fear us._ **

_ They could put us in prison. _

**_We're strong together, Dora. A cell wouldn't hold us._ **

_ Don't be so sure. After everything that happened in New York, and the Avengers, and the existence of mutants? There are contingency plans in place that could take down the Hulk, or even Thor if he went rogue. There's tech out there that can suppress mutant abilities. Don't think for a second that we couldn't easily end up in a government black cell, never to see the light of day again. _

Agony is quiet after that. Thoughtful, but Dora isn't always privy to Agony's exact thoughts or emotions. She keeps walking with no real destination in mind. Only the same anxiety that's been churning in her guts since the first night. A feather-light touch runs against the back of her neck, and for a second Dora thinks it's Agony, but it could just as easily be nothing more than the wind, and she feels a little foolish.

**_Still need to eat,_ ** Agony reminds Dora, almost regretfully.

"Okay. We'll figure out something."

  
  


-

  
  


It's a little difficult to find prey animals, but not that hard to catch them. Agony takes over, pure predator instinct and speed and a millennia of an alien evolution that far outclasses anything Earth's mammals can compete against. Dora tries not to think about the soft furry bodies squirming in their grip, or the crunch of little bones between their teeth. It's just nature, she rationalizes, and they need to eat  _ something _ . It isn't nearly as satisfying as eating human brains, but it does satiate the worst of their hunger, and it won't put them on S.H.I.E.L.D's most wanted list.

  
  


-

  
  


That night, Dora goes back to the same motel room they'd been staying in since the accident. She calls home and stays on the line with her kiddos for hours, curled up in bed and hugging her pillow while she listens to their little voices excitedly telling her about their day and giggling despite the tears on her cheeks and the feeling of her heart breaking in half a little more.

When she wakes up the next morning, she finds herself tucked in, and the phone put back into its cradle, but she can't remember when she fell asleep.

**_Don't worry about that. Said goodnight to the kids for you._ **

"You shouldn't do that," Dora says, getting out of bed in a huff, even though she really would've liked to sleep in longer.

**_They didn't notice,_ ** Agony assures her.  **_Your spawn are very sweet, Dora._ **

"Don't. Don't talk about my kids. And don't talk  _ to _ my kids, damn it," she mutters, finding fresh clothes to change into, but realizing there's little point to going anywhere. Her work routine is interrupted while this investigation is still ongoing, and she can't go home.

**_Why can't we?_ **

Dora stops trying to gather up clothes and just puts her head in her hands in despair. "Because I don't want to drag my family into this."

**_Drake is dead. Drake's men are either dead or in custody. If anyone else is still a threat, we could simply eat them. I don't see why we're still here._ **

"Because of that!" Dora exclaims. "We  _ eat _ people now, Ag. And creatures that are small and alive. And my kids are small and alive and I am not letting you  _ anywhere _ near them."

There's a soft sort of anger that simmers in her head, like the air boiling off of hot pavement in the summer.

**_I am not an animal, Dora. I wouldn't harm your children, or the ones you love._ **

"You can say that. But you also said your kind has no concept of familial bonds. So which is it?"

Agony is silent, which pisses Dora off a little more with every passing second that the symbiote can't offer her a simple answer. But Dora can't feel the same tinge of anger anymore. Her other's thoughts aren't clear to her anymore. Instead, there's just a vague and disquieted feeling at the back of her head.

**_I've told you,_ ** Agony finally says.  **_Would rather keep you safe. But I think… I would also like you to be happy. And you aren't happy here._ **

"No. I'm not," Dora admits, feeling hollowed out inside. The last few days had been so frightening, and without the comfort of her home and her family, she could never quite relax or recharge. It was draining for her.

**_So why don't we go home?_ ** Agony questions again.

"You know why."

A deep blue mass pools up from her chest, extending upward in a thick tendril and then coalescing into a clawed hand that gently cups her face against its palm. Dora leans away from the touch, but doesn't shirk it completely, allowing Agony to brush her fingers against her cheek in a facsimile of affection.

**_I thought we trusted each other by now._ ** There's no accusation or anger, just disappointment. The hand pressed to her face melts away, sinking back into her skin, but Dora can still feel the phantom touch.

It's comforting, she realizes, and that makes her feel a strange mixture of guilt. Agony is dangerous. Undeniably dangerous. But Dora had never felt that lethal edge directed at her. Instead, they'd wielded it together. Agony had saved her life and protected her. She'd chosen Dora, even when there were so many opportunities to change hands. Agony could have easily taken of Drake's men, or another scientist, or a federal agent. But Agony stayed. They could both go anywhere, but Agony recognizes that the only place Dora actually wants to be is at home, and that's the one place where she can't let herself go. Not yet. Not with so little information and so much to lose. She'd rather never see her kids again than ever harm them or have them be afraid of her.

"I just need more time, Ag," Dora sighs, and feels a tendril coil around her wrist briefly in a silent gesture of understanding.

  
x


End file.
